


Hush

by Bryonia_Alba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Sexual Situations, slight underage (16/17)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 09:11:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11078508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bryonia_Alba/pseuds/Bryonia_Alba
Summary: It was only here, in the dark, that Neville could allow himself to show weakness and let go.





	Hush

**Author's Note:**

> Written for wizard_love, February 2012.

Neville hurt all over, muscles still twitching in remembered agony as he slowly made his way to Gryffindor Tower and the relative safety of the common room. He paused as a thigh muscle cramped, gritting his teeth and leaning against the wall until it passed. Gingerly, he raised a hand to his lip, unsurprised to find it tender and increasingly swollen from Goyle’s farewell blow.

He knew some rudimentary healing spells, of course – everyone in the D.A. knew them from necessity, but casting such spells on another was one thing. Casting them upon himself was beyond his capabilities. He wasn’t willing to take that sort of risk.

The cramp passed and Neville straightened, lurching back into motion. He wanted to make it back to the Gryffindor common room before a Slytherin prefect found him and gave him detention for being out past curfew. It wasn’t something he relished even on the best of these dark days, but he dreaded the possibility now especially, when he was exhausted and aching and sporting fresh bruises from Goyle’s ungentle attentions. 

He wasn’t Harry. Harry would have found a way by now to put the Carrows at a disadvantage, break past their resistances and take them down. He couldn’t risk putting the other students in danger any more. Not for the first time, he wished Luna was still with them with her eccentric brand of common sense when it seemed everyone else was searching for and finding their inner Gryffindor, regardless of which House they’d originally been Sorted.

Reaching the Fat Lady’s portrait, he gave her the password and did his best not to stumble into the common room. He knew the fight wasn’t over, wasn’t nearly over, but he was so tired, and the end of the school year seemed so far away.

He’d hoped the common room would be empty, this late; but it seemed he was out of luck in this as well. Ginny looked up from her place on the sofa as he entered, brown eyes narrowing as she studied him and his undoubtedly dishevelled appearance. He could only look back at her when she stood and crossed to him, taking his elbow in her hand and guiding him to the nearest overstuffed chair.

“What did they do to you this time?” she asked, focusing on his split lip. “Fisticuffs in detention, Neville?”

“Ha bloody ha,” Neville replied, dabbing at the wound with his sleeve. “I wish that was why. No, Amycus thought it would be amusing to let Greg Goyle use me as a punching bag as a job well done after he excelled at practising few rounds of the Cruciatus Curse on me first. He’s getting scary good at Cruciatus, Goyle. The fists though...well, they were as inelegantly efficient as always. Is there anything to drink? Screaming is thirsty work.”

Ginny left his side, but only for a moment. Returning, she pressed a cup into his hand. “It’s only water, I’m afraid.”

“Water’s fine.” Neville took a deep swallow, managing not to wince as the cold liquid stung his lip. “I’m so tired of this shite, Ginny. Are we really doing any good?”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” Ginny replied, meeting his gaze with a measured stare of her own. “Finish your water, and then if you like I’ll see what I can do about that lip.”

Neville snorted softly, but he obediently drained his cup and set it aside before turning toward Ginny, raising his chin in acquiescence.

Ginny reached into her pocket, retrieving her wand along with a tiny phial filled with a creamy pale green fluid. “Madam Pomfrey smuggled this to me earlier today,” she murmured, leaning in until the two shared breath and body heat. Raising her wand, she ordered, “Hold still. We’ll deal with the lip now. The potion will do well enough for any other bruises you may be hiding under those clothes.”

She uttered the words to the healing spell quietly, touching the tip of her wand to Neville’s lip. He felt the tingle pass through the wounded tissue, saw Ginny’s small smile of self-satisfaction, letting him know the spell had done its work. She leaned in again, warm lips teasing softly at Neville’s mouth, easing into a kiss.

Neville knew he should pull back, knew he should refuse Ginny's unspoken offer, but there was that part of him that yearned for comfort and a temporary surcease from fear and doubt and pain. His only objection was a sigh, knee pressing forward against her leg, one hand lifting dreamily from his side to rest on the warm curve of Ginny's arm. Ginny hummed into the kiss, blunt nails trailing up the line of sinew along Neville’s inner thigh, edging ever higher.

Sucking in a breath, Neville curled his hand around the lean softness of Ginny’s arm, sliding up over her shoulder and neck and finally into silken copper hair. Heat pulsed in Neville's cock as Ginny's fingertips trailed over it with maddening lightness as their tongues continued teasing and sliding against each other.

Finally, Ginny eased out of the kiss. Her breath fanned Neville's cheeks as she murmured, "C'mon. Let's get out of here." She gave him a lopsided grin. “I’m going to have to examine any further injuries in depth, you realise. Don’t worry about Seamus; he’s spending the night in the girls’ dorm with Lavender and a few Silencing charms.”

Neville swayed in his chair, the flare of arousal kindled by Ginny’s questing fingers and agile tongue making him nod agreement without a second thought. She pulled him against her soft yet firm body, sliding her arm around Neville’s waist and helping him stand, guiding him toward the other stairway leading to the boys’ dormitory.

This late at night, the dormitory was quiet save for the sound of snores as Ginny led Neville past the sleeping areas of the younger students and up to the empty seventh-year beds on the top floor. The hand closest to Neville’s side strummed down his ribs, sending small shivers coursing through him. He lifted his head, the ache in his body transmuted into a strange sort of subdued arousal. Ginny looked back at him, her expression soft and gentle and so unlike her it was almost surprising, except it wasn’t the first time this terrifying year they had seen each other like this.

Now that Luna was gone, Ginny was the only one left who had seen Neville in his broken moments of self-doubt. She understood what it was like to be alone and ostracised; and she alone knew how difficult it had been – still was, to be honest – for Neville to adapt to his growing leadership role. She and Luna were the only ones he trusted to confide in his moments of helplessness and confusion, and with Luna no longer here, they relied on each other completely for emotional support. It was only here, in the dark, that Neville could allow himself to show weakness and let go.

“Ginny,” he murmured quietly, a faint smile touching his lips. “I don’t know why you put up with me.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she replied, echoing his cynical amusement, fingertips stroking his fringe back from his forehead with tender gentleness. “Shhh, hush now.”

A moment later her head tilted, lips parting to capture Neville’s mouth with hers, fingers twining in his hair. Neville hummed into the kiss, their breaths drawn in gasping unison, tongues sliding eagerly together, yet soft with care and understanding.

Neville tugged at Ginny’s blouse, pulling it free while she unfastened the buttons, before sliding the sleeves down her arms and away. Once her arms were free she skimmed her palms down Neville’s back to cup his arse. He couldn’t stop the small sound in his throat as she hauled his hips forward, letting him grind his burgeoning cock against her while she steered them toward the bed, her lithe body and quick tongue pressing and circling his, hands touching and caressing his hips and waist until they bumped against the mattress.

Breaking a heated kiss, Ginny smiled up at Neville and pounced, knotting her fists into the front of Neville’s shirt. Buttons flew into the darkness, almost certainly never to be found again, and the shirt slipped down and off Neville’s arms. Ginny gave him a light shove and followed him down onto the bed, landing astride Neville’s hips before he had time to bounce, rubbing against his still-clothed erection.

Neville moaned at the press of warm flesh above him and soft, cushioned comfort cradled his back and hips beneath. Biting his lip, he sucked in a gasping breath, hungry for everything Ginny offered so freely. Eyelids fluttering, he choked out, “Yes, oh Merlin, yes...”

Ginny had both their clothes stripped away within moments, a flick of her wand sending them to the empty bed beside Neville’s before she eased down to lie atop him. Her body moved, undulating with sinuous slowness, her bare, smooth skin gliding along his. Wrapping slender arms around Neville, she silently coaxed him to roll over until they lay side by side. 

Stretched alongside each other, they moved, bodies moving in a press of breasts and chest, belly and groin, exchanging languid, liquid kisses. Neville’s erect cock slid and pushed against Ginny’s taut belly, but there was no rush to penetrate or dominate. For now, the moment was enough, just the two of them, together, giving and taking pleasure in easy familiarity.

Ginny’s lips against his felt almost dream-like in their gentleness and sensitivity, her mouth slick and wet and undemanding. Neville made a soft sound and slid closer, hand grazing over soft skin to squeeze her round bottom. Dipping his head, he nipped carefully at the sharp jut of her collarbone, tongue licking at the hollow with smooth swipes.

Ginny’s head tipped backward in response, the arch of her throat an open offering to the caress of Neville’s lips and tongue as they sought out her tender, sensitive areas. The curve of her spine and Neville’s hands kneading her arse brought her hips that small bit closer to Neville’s, tightening the pressure against his shaft. The added sensation rose to an abrupt peak, and he let out a low moan of release, pulses of his come mingling with the sweat between their bodies.

“God, Ginny, I’m sorry,” Neville said, feeling his face burn with embarrassment. He started to sit up, but Ginny’s hand on his arm stayed him, one finger rising to press against his lips.

“Shhh...” she sighed, pushing Neville over gently onto his back, covering him with her own soft, compact body. “It’s all right. Shhh...”

Neville found himself drowning in sensation, Ginny’s hands moving everywhere as she touched and caressed him, fingers flickering and brushing across his skin. Her lips mouthed ardent kisses along his jaw and throat as she rocked against him, shifting and sliding steadily; and soon enough he responded, cock firming against her belly. She lifted her head and smiled, rolling over with him until he rested atop her, small, firm breasts flush against his chest.

Her slim thighs parted as Neville’s hips lowered, tilting up as her damp folds brushed the tip of his cock, opening for him in a warm, wet slide. She made a purring sound, her smile widening as Neville entered her, sinking home into welcoming heat. Her fingernails ran up and down Neville’s spine, leaving tingling trails behind, heels lifting to nudge against his backside, subtly hinting at him to move.

Neville groaned, pressing his face to the curve of Ginny’s neck as he began thrusting in earnest, their quiet moans filling the air. Everything focused on the rhythmic clench of her channel around Neville’s cock, the bunch and release of muscle beneath sweat-slick skin, the rise and fall of their hips as they met and parted and met again. Ginny’s hands stroked down Neville’s back, cupping and kneading his buttocks, pressing him in deeper, building the urgency already growing between them as they rocked together in an increasingly frantic jolt of hips and cock and cunt.

“So close...” Ginny gasped, head tossing as every muscle clamped tight around Neville’s shaft. “Ohhh, yes, _yesss_...”

“Yes,” Neville breathed, mouthing the delicate skin of Ginny’s throat, hands sliding over the curve of her waist to rest over her hips, fingers pressing into firm flesh as he thrust into her again and again, breath puffing, stirring strands of copper hair. “Ginny...I...”

There was nothing more to say. Neville gasped and groaned, spilling wordlessly and deep within Ginny’s safe haven.

She gasped, contracting hard around Neville’s still-buried shaft in unstoppable waves, riding out his last few thrusts as she trembled and shook through her own climax, her arms tight around his neck. As their movements slowed and gradually stopped, she caressed Neville’s sweat-dampened back, her palm coming to rest at the base of his spine. Her other hand cupped the back of Neville’s head, carding through his hair in silent tenderness.

Neville simply lay in the moment, the warm weight of Ginny’s body twined around his, feeling the thrum of their heartbeats calming down. He drew a long breath, releasing it in a drowsy, sated sigh.

“Ginny,” he murmured, nestling against her climax-flushed cheek and soft bright hair.

She turned her head, nuzzling his neck and kissing him softly, her hands tracing aimless, soothing circles along Neville’s shoulders.

“Mmmm...Neville,” Ginny whispered. Fumbling, she gathered the duvet, covering them both before settling back within the circle of Neville’s arms. “Better? Or should I get the phial?”

Neville sighed quietly, pulling Ginny closer against his chest. He had needed this, the comfort of gentle hands to soothe him, the press of soft lips that would never speak a spell against him, the tangle of legs never meant to trip or obstruct, the warmth of an embrace promising no pain. He needed Ginny’s safety, the understanding simplicity of her friendship and love. Here, he didn’t need to speak or think or puzzle or plan. He could just be Neville, not the bold leader of a ragged resistance group. 

That was for the harsh light of tomorrow.

“Better,” he replied, stroking Ginny’s tumbled hair. “Thank you. I’ll be all right now.”

She smiled, nestling closer; and Neville closed his eyes, comfortable and comforted as he drifted to sleep.


End file.
